As Slow As The Summer Heat
by May a Chance
Summary: It is agony, wanting to do one thing yet being forced to do another. I would be lying to say that it is not agony to be shot in the face. A top all agonies is the agony of being untrusted and for so long, they did not trust me. For so long, all I could do was hope.


**Disclaimer: I do not own this amazing franchise know as the Maze Runner. All rights go to James Dashner, the author of the Maze Runner, and his publishing company whom he probably sold the rights to. This story is written purely for my entertainment with nothing to do with profit or recognition. "I write what I want to write, I write what amuses me, it's totally for myself."- J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

My thoughts were not my own, my movements that of a monster. I tried to fight the control that gripped me in a firm grasp. It was as though my brain was manipulated by an outside force. The messages sent to my body that were not my own and on top of that, my thoughts betrayed me. _Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad!_ They whispered as my eyes, controlled by another, stare at the Greenie. They said the eyes were the windows to the soul. I could only hope that was true for me. I could only hope many things. I could break the control, the Greenie would focus on my soul-filled eyes rather than anger-filled face, that Alby wouldn't banish me. If my eyes were the windows to my soul, I can only hope the Keepers would stare past my pale, sweating face and into my wide, scared eyes. I took a few more steps forward, the crisp leaves crunching beneath my feet.

"Who's out there?" The Greenbean, the Greenie, called out, his voice as shaken and hollow as an old, rotting log. "Seriously, this is stupid." A note of fear entered his voice as his hazel eyes scan the forests, searching for me.

I took another quiet step forward, eyes locked upon the Greenie. He was staring, entranced, at the strangest of the gravestones. It was the one for the Half-shank, Stephen, whose body was in halves by then. He had been killed as he made his way down the Box Hole. The lighting of the Dead-heads was dark and dramatic. It was somehow fitting as mist seemed to encircle everything as I took another step. My foot landed on a stick and I flinched back against my will before taking another step to another crack again and again and again. Before I knew or understand what was happening I was sprinting in a strange, limping run. It was as though whatever was manipulating my thoughts had only partial control over my limbs. One of my legs was not moving forwards right, rather pushing off in a more powerful manner to create an eerie, limping run.

The Greenie spoke again as I was just a few feet away. "Who the he-" and I slammed him viciously to the ground. I was sure my eyes were wide with fear and confusion. If not such emotions displayed in the swirling darkness of my brown eyes, but of course, he didn't, couldn't, see it. I was wrestling against him, all the strength in my arms pressing him to the ground. I tried, desperation becoming my closest companion along with fear, to stop, give up even. A strangled cry from the Greenie that escaped the boy's lips moments before only just registered to me. It left me feel more hollow inside. It was as though my internal organs had been removed from my body yet still I was still alive, just the empty husk of who I used to be. In the distance, as though through a long tunnel, I could hear a grave marker snap like a twig beneath a person's fingers.

The Greenie pressed a hand against my chest as he tried to push me off of him, his other hand swatting at me. The taught skin that stretched across my bones was writhing atop the Greenie who tried to gain purchase against me. I felt as though I had completely lost my mind when my teeth began to snap at him. It was as though I were trying to bite him which, I supposed, I was when I felt my jaws close upon my throat. Please! I screamed, What's happening to me! My thoughts were a jumbled mess and I could not even be sure if they were my thoughts. I could only hope they were. Confusion enveloped me.

The Greenie whose name I did not even know cried out in pain before seeming to gain strength, perhaps from adrenaline. He planted both of his hands against my chest and straightening his arms, trembling. I fell back a moment later, a grave stone snapping beneath me. I was grateful that I was not trying to kill the Greenie just then. It was painful, the feeling of not wanting to do something yet having no choice in the matter, quite literally being forced into it.

Scrambling to feet which refused to cooperate, the Greenie's eyes locked on my face rather than my dazed eyes. My dazed gaze landed upon him, thinning over my fear-filled eyes. I felt as though I were gazing at my next meal, not a feeling I enjoyed.

I lost hope when I felt the knife gripped in my right hand as I crouched low to the ground. Hope was just a distant memory in the terrible existence that was the aftermath of the Changing.

"Ben!"

It was Alby's voice. "Ben," he repeated, voice softer. "Stop right now, shank, or you ain't gonna see tomorrow."

Fear fluttered in my chest, pounding a chaotic beat within the cage that was my body. I tried to stop. I tried hard yet the vice grip controlling my mind only held onto my mind more ferocious. It calling an unbidden whimper to my throat as I gazed at Alby, fear the emotion filling my eyes. I turned my head until I gazed at Alby, my terrified eyes darting between him and the Greenie who stood with mist circling around him.

The dark-skinned leader of the Glade had a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. His bow notched and in hand, pointed straight at my face. My tongue darted, untold, between my lips. I felt as though I had become a monster that was unable to disobey an order from a certain person. Who that person was I hadn't the slightest idea. My gaze rested on Alby, eyes filled with fear and confusion though my bad luck told me they had narrowed with anger and ferocity.

I tried to fight the control that gripped me and speak. "Alby," I tried to say, intending to beg. "I... I don't know what happened!" Yet all that came out was a ferocious shriek of words. "If you kill me," the voice that was mine yet not my thoughts shrieked, "you'll be get the wrong guy!" My voice was maddened and filled with anger. Beneath it I could hear, almost feel, the slightest tremble beneath it displaying my fear and chances were my pain.

"Don't be stupid, Ben," Alby spoke in a quiet tone, though his voice was stern and brokered no argument. "Thomas just got here- ain't nothing to worry about. You're still buggin' from the Changing. You should've never left your bed."

"He's not one of us! I saw him- he's... he's bad. We have to kill him! Let me gut him!"

From the corner of my eye, I saw the Greenie, Thomas, jump back with disgust, horror and confusion glowing in his eyes.

"You leave that to me and the Keepers to figure out, shuck-face." Alby stated in a stern voice, his bow still held steady in his hands as though he had propped it against a branch. "Right now, back your scrawny butt down and get to the Homestead."

I was sobbing with fear at the situation that surrounded me on the inside. Had the world gone crazy? I'd never hurt the Greenie- or at least not of my own free will. "He'll wanna take us home. He'll wanna get us out of the Maze. Better we all jumped off the cliff! Better we tore each other's guts out!" My voice was a harsh sound, angry and afraid at the same time.

The Greenie spoke then. "What are you talking-" he began before I cut him off against my will.

"Shut your face! Shut your ugly, traitorous face!" Why was this happening to me? Why was it me? Why couldn't I break the control that grasped me? _Why, why, why?_ I screamed in my head before my thought process was whisked away from me. I was just a human-like robot, control in the hands of another. Was there someone with a remote in their hands, twitching a lever that forced me to move?

"Ben," Alby spoke in a calm and quiet voice that only just carrying to me. "I'm gonna count to three."

"He's bad, he's bad, he's bad..." I murmured over and over, almost chanting the terrible words that could be my end should Alby choose. I swayed from side to side, trying to find some sort of peace. A knife in my right hand was tossed to my left then back again, time upon time. My dark brown eyes were locked on Thomas as though he were prey that I could catch and eat for breakfast- or in this case, dinner. "He's bad, he's bad, he's bad..." It was then that I knew I was going to die. There would be no escaping Alby's sharp-shooting skills. He could hit a apple atop a head from a mile away. Death would soon be grasping me in its claws, carrying me off to a place that I hoped would be better.

"One."

"Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad..." I murmured with an eerie and creepy smile. It likely chilled Thomas to the bones, just as much as it chilled me despite the fact I couldn't see it.

"Two," Alby said in a louder voice that filled with the quiet warning.

Thomas spoke up again. "Ben, I'm not... I don't even know what-" and I lunged at him.

"Three!" Alby shouted and with a whisk there was an arrow flying at my face. The last thing I hear was a dull thunk as the arrow found a home in my cheek.

Something was wrapped around my head. It was rough and warm enveloped my head. It held me teeth together, wrapping around the back of my skull. It also rested tightly upon my nose, restricting my airways so that I had a wee bit of trouble breathing. My cheek ached with a dulled yet still agonizing pain. With each time my face twitched beneath the rough fabric, agony shot through me. disoriented, I opened my eyes to find my vision blurry and darkened in places. As far as I could tell, my surroundings were created from a dull grey stone and reddened iron bars. The floor was made out of the same, grey stone as the walls and ceiling. The only proof I wasn't locked in a stone room with no exit were the iron bars. They were placed at around head-height on what seemed to be a door. There was a long indentation, likely the edge of a door, running in a large rectangle around the iron bars. It was the Slammer. Blurrily, I could see and dark form kneeling over me, one limb, likely a hand, hovering over my shoulder.

"Ben? You're awake, shank?" The form, evidently Jeff the Med-jack based on his voice, asked in his usual, quiet voice. Pain shot through my body.

"Good that, shank. I'm going to ask you a few questions, now. On a scale of one to ten, one being none, ten being the worst you've ever felt, how much does your cheek hurt?"

I furrowed my brow at the question. My cheek really did hurt, but it wasn't as bad as the Changing so a nine?... I tried to open my mouth to speak, yet only managed to crack it open whisper the word quietly. "Nine," I murmured. The Changing was definitely worse.

"Wha- oh, the Changing," Jeff murmured. He pat my shoulder in a gentle manner, eventually resting it there. I tried to lift my head despite the pounding that plagued it like fleas plagued the farm animals. "No," Jeff ordered with a quiet voice, moving his hand to press lightly on the side of my head, just above my ear. He was gentle enough so I allowed for Jeff to press my head down against a fluffy pillow. It was rather soft. "Easy there, shank. Just relax. You took a nasty hit there." He seemed to study me, scepticism in his eyes. I let my eyes slip closed, relaxing more than a bit as Jeff rubbed soothing circles in my shaggy, blond hair. From a far away place, I heard him mutter something in a soft voice. "He's so... docile." In my state of half-asleep-ness, I nuzzled his hand, though I wasn't sure if it counted as nuzzling. He chuckled in response, patting my head one last time before standing. "I'm sorry, shank. I've gotta go so soon. There's a Gathering after dinner, 'bout... well, you know. There's a few hours still then so you should get a bit of rest. At least your face won't hurt in sleep." I nodded slightly in response and offered up a faint, fake smile before drifting off into oblivion once again.

When I next woke there was someone shaking my shoulder. I cracked my brown eyes open, exhausted, to see, not Jeff, rather the Keeper of the Baggers, Ko, and Newt, the former Runner. The door to the Slammer was open a tiny crack and Newt was holding what appeared to be a plate with a small amount of pasta on it. Nerves grating at me, I sat up, noting that both Gladers had a wooden staff strapped to their backs. I gave them a questioning look.

"Rise n' shine, shank," Newt said with his thick accent. "Brought ya dinner."

Vaguely, I gestured at the bandage wrapped around my jaw. Ko let out a snort. He was a creepy shank, the one who kept everyone in line; chances were that was why he was here. They didn't want me to attack someone again.

Newt let out a barking laugh. "Frypan didn't make any soup, so you'll have to live, mate. How much can you open your jaw?" I showed him the centimeter or so I couldn't open my mouth. "Oh bloody," he mumbled. "This will be interesting." He tried shoving a piece of pasta into my mouth which I almost gagged on before frowning at him. He was trying to hold in a laugh.

"That wasn't nice," I mumbled through the tiny crack, my words muffled.

Ko then frowned at me. "Well you're one to talk, shank. Attacking the Greenie like that. Not nice at all."

I frowned at him in response; not like he could see it. It also hurt like shuck. "Not like I had a choice."

"Well-"

"Alright, alright, ya bloody slint-heads! Wait for the Gathering. Ben, ya gonna eat somethin'?" Newt interrupted the Keeper of the Baggers. I shook my head, not hungry though that was likely from the pain that shot through my jaw and face each time I moved my mouth.

"Good that. Up ya get, time for the Gathering." Fear fluttered in my chest. I scrambled clumsily to my feet to find my legs numb.

Ko pulled a rope from somewhere and held it out at me. Reluctantly, I offered up my hands which were soon tied tight in front of me. Just a moment later Ko and Newt were standing on either side of me as we walked to the Council Room in the corner of the Glade. With my arms bound, I would be pretty hopeless if I were to fall which made me quite nervous. Of course, it was ludicrous to the extreme; chances were I would be Banished so why was I scared of falling?_  
_

_Because you've already died,_ a tiny voice within me whispered, which was true. I'd already faced the cold darkness of knowing I was going to die; I didn't want to feel it again. With my extremely bad luck, it was that moment my legs stumbled beneath me and I crashed to the ground. I mumbling a muffled curse as agony shot through my face- cursing just made it worse. Clumsiness becoming my closest companion, I struggled to gain my feet beneath me, failing in a rather pathetic way. All I succeeded in doing was make Newt laugh even harder than he had been and Ko let out a snort. I glared at them with ice in my eyes. "Oh shut it."

"Slim it," Newt shot back, grabbing my bound arm and pulling me up.

"Thanks."

Newt let out a snort at the mumbled word. "It's a wonder yer a Runner, shank. You're so clumsy." There was no arguing with that. I was the shank that knocked my cup over at dinner and stumbled over my own feet when walking- and fell on my face after being tripped by air. I was also the one who could knock over almost anything give me the chance. Exceptions were the walls, trees and the doors. I definitely couldn't knock those over and never intended to try.

I stepped down the steps to the Council Room nervously, trying desperately to avoid tripping on the uneven surface. Inside, several Keepers sat around with their chairs kicked back on two legs. Alby sat at the front of the group, a paper in his hands and a pencil being edgily tapped on it. Gally was glowering at Winston who sat next to him. Zart (the Fart) was leaning back with a slight glint in his eyes, seeming to be contemplating what he was going to say.

Ko pushed me down into a chair and pulled out a length of rope from nowhere, tying me legs (of all things) to the chair. If I were to stand up, I would most likely not crumple onto my face, though if I were to try and walk, my chance of success would only be one in thousands. Such a number was optimistic.

Ko took his place among the Keepers while Newt plopped down next to Alby.

"I, the Leader, declare this meeting begun," Alby stated, earning eye rolls from several of the Keepers. I had to agree with them. Such formality was ridiculous. "Okay, so everyone knows why we're here, yes?" There were nods all around.

" 'Cause Benny-baby attacked the Greenie!" Gally called out. I flinched at the nickname. Honestly, why had they chosen such a ridiculous nickname for me. Benny would have been one thing, but adding baby at the end was just too much. I frowned at Gally who was staring at Alby. Then I winced. Frowning hurt. Wincing hurt, too.

"Yeah," Alby said. "Basically we got to decide what to do with the shank. We'l-"

Jeff broke in. "Well hold up, El Presidente." There were snickers. "Most of us don't know what happened."

Alby sighed. "When the shank woke up, he decided it would be a lovely idea to hop out the window and go for a stroll in the woods." I frowned in confusion. I remembered having fallen asleep, but not having woken up until I was in the forest stalking the Greenie, Thomas. "He walks in the woods and goes to the Dead-heads where he finds the newbie. He attacks the Greenie, I shoot his face and then the Baggers find him alive. Comprende?"

There was a huff from farther down the line. "Let's hear it from Ben, Alby. He's the only one who knows what happened the whole way, 'cept maybe the Creators."

"How'd we know he's not lying?!"

Newt laughed and a moment later Minho joined in. "He can't lie! He gets all pink and shy and stuttery. He hasn't bothered to try in ages, not since that game of Truth or Dare after Jake came up." I groaned. Did they honestly need to tell everyone I was hopeless? Evidently so.

"Hold it!" Alby roared. I could only imagine what the Gladers outside must have thought was happening. Alby's voice probably echoed throughout the Glade. "Fine, we'll ask the shank."

There was a soft snicker from somewhere down the line of Keepers. "Can he speak?"

Jeff spoke up. "Sort of. Well, barely. No, not really."

Newt let out a snort half-covered by a cough. "He can speak, so to speak. Just not well. It's more of a muffled mumble you can hardly hear. He can't eat either. Jeff, you have to change that soon. If we do end up Banishing him-" I flinched "-he'll be Banished on a full stomach. Comprende?"

"Quiet!" Alby roared. He turned to me. "Ben, can you speak."

I nodded and offered up my proof, a whispered words that I was somewhat sure he could only barely hear. "Yes."

"What happened?"

My eyes darted away from Alby's. Fear fluttered in my chest."I cannot remember anything until I had near reached the Dead-heads." Someone, Ko, started to speak up before the black-haired Keeper was shushed by Gally. "I remember having heard my mind whispering 'bad' time and time again, yet it was not me. Imagine being attacked to an advanced remote control that tears your body away from your control. That is what it felt like. It was as though my mind were being squeezed-" a shudder passed through me "-and forcing me to think thoughts that were not my own. I can recall distantly hearing a quote- 'the eyes are the windows to your soul'. I also thought of hope. I could do nothing save for hope I could break the control that held me in it's icy grasp." Waves of agony flooded up my jaw. "I recall the Greenie, Thomas, saying something and attacking him." I glanced around the circle of Keepers with eyes wide and fearful. "But it was not me. You all believe me, right?"

Glances were exchanged before, one-by-one, everyone but Gally and Jeff shook their heads. Alby spoke up. "Gally, Jeff, you need to explain why you believe this shuck-face or we ain't never gettin' nowhere."

With a roll of his eyes, Jeff began. "Well, as Newt said, Ben simply can't lie. He's even worse than Jake over here is. I think we'd be able to tell if he were lying over something as big as this. Also, he's never had random personality switches- once he was up from the Changing he was just kind of quiet. There's no way in heck our ickle Benners could go from quiet and hardly speaking to a terrifying monster person. He just couldn't do it. There's one more thing- he's being _formal_. Anyone who's been around a nervous Ben knows he reverts to this overly formal way of speaking 'nstead of the more slangish style he- and the rest of us -normally use. What'bout you, Capitaine?"

There were a few snickers from the Keepers in the room at Jeff's last word as my eyes flickered to Gally. "I believe the shank because I've felt a grasp on my mind, too, right after the Changing. I couldn't _breathe_."

Winston let out a snort. "Yeah right, Gally. Like anyone would believe that. You're just sticking up for the Stung, _like you always do_."

Gally set his jaw, glaring at the other boy. "Yeah?!" He challenged in annoyance. "Well if I don't, who will? No one here but me and Ben know what it's like to be Stung! You shanks don't understand the pure, despicable _madness_. I do! I've been through the same as Ben has! So shut'cher holes and listen! We are _not _going to Banish the shank. End. Of. Story."

It was at that point Alby jumped in. "Enough of the chit-chat. We know the story and all that klunk, so it's time to send of Ben to the Slammer so we can suggest ideas and vote. Newt, take 'im."

So Newt did. He untied me from the chair before following me out the Council Room and to the Slammer where I sat down by the pillow and blanket that had been left there. Fear clenched my gut.

"Ben," a voice, Newt's, stated as soon as I closed my eyes, blanket curled around my shoulders. "They're not going to Banish you. Have hope."

I opened my eyes and glanced up at the tall, blond boy. "How did you know?"

He smiled in response. "You get the funniest face when nervous. You should rest. That wound'll keep hurting for a while." He shrugged. "Best to sleep when ya can, mate."

I nodded, shivering slightly as a chill passed over me. I pulled the blanket tight around me as Newt closed to door to the Slammer and I was enclosed in the cold, stone building. The chill was unbearable. I drifted off into sleep.

I woke to someone shaking my shoulder gently and a faint stinging in my cheek that was nothing compared to the throbs of pain that had emanated from the same place just hours before. Jeff crouched over me, face soft and gentle. He held a bowl of some sort of soup, probably of Frypan's creation. Next to him was a bottle of something and a damp, antiseptic smelling cloth. Knowing Jeff, he had a jar of honey somewhere on him that would be used to clean out my cheek at some point. It was nice to know he cared.

"Good!" He said cheerfully. "You're awake. Hungry?" It was then that I noticed hunger gnawing at my stomach and the cold air enveloping my face. Jeff had taken the bandages off.

I nodded slightly, sitting up. "When are they Banishing me?"

Jeff frowned at me and I shrank back. "You're jacked, shank. No one but Winston, Alby and Ko wanted to Banish you and even if they were right, that would have been overruled by something else- Alby shot you in the face. That's generally considered as bad as being Banished- possibly worse 'cause it hurts like shuck for days. Aside from that, the Banishing would never take place 'cause Gally convinced the Keepers to agree that no one would be Banished for something done under the influence of the Changing. Besides, you're second in command of the Runners so we do need you. Nah, you're sentence is the Pit with a guard until you're fully over the Changing which should only be a few days. You get a pillow, a blanket and whatever Frypan cooks up for the rest of us that day. So pretty good, but most of the shanks are feeling guilty over you being shot in the face. Gally went as far as to try and Banish Alby. It was jacked." A grin ran the length of my face.

* * *

"If we stay here we'll all die!" Minho shouted at Alby. "It's worse than that?!"

The Gathering of the day was an odd one. Alby was still crazed from the Changing and when Thomas, the Greenie, had asked for a Gathering to be held, he'd asked that I come along. It was an odd meeting, the three most recently Stung, Alby, Thomas and me, all arguing over what the outside world was like. Alby remembered the virus 'the Flare' which controlled minds. Thomas remembered WICKED and how to get out of the Maze, I remembered immunity and why we were chosen, along with the Flare.

"Yes," I said before Alby could answer. "The outside world is bad and broken, ridden with a single disease that everyone thinks is going to kill everyone, but there's more. There's immunity, the reason all us are here. We're part of the Killzone Experiment, the KE of WICKED. World in Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department. Anyways, almost all of us are immune- half of those who are have already gone by way of being Stung and not making it back. Griever Venom is just the Flare in a weakened, non-infective version. Only two of us aren't immune, now. Look, I don't know who, but as best as I can tell WICKED must be filled with idiots. If they were smart, they would have noticed the parallels between the Flare and rabies. Honestly. The Flare is a bioweapon. It had to originate from _somewhere_. Not to mention there's a vaccine already! Fate, they are _so_ dumb." I rolled my eyes. "Jeez, I mean, seriously? This whole thing was pointless- besides, the vaccine is just the serum. And we've got, like, ninety syringes worth of it. Ten have received it. So they've given us four or five syringes of it each month. Wow, just wow. We have enough to make sure that none of us will be killed by sickness. Estúpido MALVADO!" The strange words flowed easily from my mouth as I reached up to tuck a lock of my shaggy, brown hair behind my ear. I got a few weird looks for the strange words, but at that moment I didn't care. My friends, my only real family, would keep on breathing for longer yet.

A faint smile crept across my tanned face as slow as the summer heat.


End file.
